Out of the Depths I Cry to Thee
by Orangeblossom Brambleburr
Summary: (Completed 12/01) 12 years later, Sarah returns. She's never been the same since she left; neither has the Labyrinth, or its King. Winner 2001 Storyteller Award for Best Characterization of Jareth
1. Sarah: Light in the Darkness

Title: Out of the Depths I Cry to Thee  
Series: N/A  
Fandom: Labyrinth  
Author: Oragneblossom (formerly Lagamorph)  
Email: rice_al@yahoo.com  
Rating: R  
Summary: 12 years later, Sarah returns to the Labyrinth. She's never been the same since she left; neither has the Labyrinth, or its King.  
Archiving: Ask first, please.  
Chapters: 12  
Status: Complete  
Year Completed: December 2001  
Disclaimer: Its all Henson's, unless its Mine...  
Notes, Dedications & Thanks: All love stories are inspired by Mike. Particularly ones starring the Goblin King.  
  
  
Sarah: Light in the Darkness  
  
  
Sarah wandered her apartment aimlessly. It was her twenty-sixth birthday, and she was alone. She flopped onto her secondhand couch, idly flicking channels with her remote, her green eyes not even seeing the screen. She did not feel like celebrating.  
  
The apartment was small and cluttered, but homey. The walls were adorned with several photos of her brother Toby at various ages, interspersed with a few framed fantasy-themed posters. In the place of honor, central to the tiny living room, was a large drawing. Several strange creatures stood in a group, a dog at one side, and to the back, a man almost hidden in shadows. It was done in colored pencil and was a little crude, but it remained Sarah's favorite--she had drawn it herself. To the casual observer it was just another fantasy picture, but to Sarah it said home like nothing else could. They were her friends.  
  
It had been almost twelve years since her adventure in the Labyrinth but the memories were still vivid, and even after a decade she missed her friends. It hadn't been an easy time. After her return, Sarah had difficulty adjusting to day-to-day life. It was hard to make new friends, and though her friends from the Labyrinth visited her whenever she called for them, it had been almost two years since she'd done so. They just couldn't quite satisfy her need for human affection. And affection, it seemed, was at a premium.  
  
Her father had died of a sudden heart attack before she'd finished high school. Their family had been small to begin with; there were no cousins, only a single aunt living somewhere in California. Her mother had cut ties with her own family when she'd decided to act and had not mended the rift before her death. All that was left of a family for Sarah was her stepmother and Toby, and now she couldn't even count him.  
  
Since Sarah was eighteen and almost out of school when her father died, Karen had asked her to find an apartment, claiming she couldn't afford to take care of two children. Sarah had agreed readily--she was young and headstrong, eager to be on her own, and had never really gotten along with her stepmother. She continued to babysit for Toby whenever possible, and often visited. Karen, however, had slowly limited their contact, and then had abruptly moved to Pittsburgh with the boy.  
  
Their frequent visits thus ended, Sarah lost the bond she'd had with Toby. She wrote to him and called often, but he was too young to be much of a correspondent--and he'd heard many tales from his own mother casting Sarah as a crazy, irresponsible person whom he was better off avoiding. By the time he was nine, he didn't really want her in his life at all.  
  
Now, Sarah thought, he'd ceased even the bit of contact they'd maintained; he'd failed to acknowledge her birthday. Last year's hastily signed card was the last she'd heard from him, her many letters unreturned. She'd prayed that he would at least keep this meager contact, but it was painfully obvious that he'd given her up entirely.  
  
After Karen and Toby moved, Sarah plunged into marriage with the man she'd been seeing at the time. Ryan was an unpleasant sort, given to violent outbursts of temper. After their divorce, a mere year and a half after they'd wed, Sarah couldn't really explain what she'd seen in him. Except that he'd been blonde and handsome with unusual eyes, one blue and one brown, a peculiarity that Sarah found intensely attractive. And she had been lonely. She had only seen him once since their marriage ended; he had already taken a second wife. As terrible as he'd been to her, Sarah couldn't help but envy his new wife; at least she didn't spend her days and nights in an echoing apartment-like a disobedient child, she almost felt that the violence and anger was better than no attention at all.  
  
It seemed lately that her dreams had withered as well. She'd given up acting once she realized that the stories in her own mind were far more interesting. Writing gave her a badly needed outlet, and so far she had been moderately successful. A few of her stories and poems had been published, and a year ago she'd sold a play, though it had not yet opened. But her masterpiece, her life's work, remained a dusty pile of papers. She'd worked on her first novel for years, painstakingly recreating her own adventure through the Labyrinth. She'd strove to capture every moment, to make it real, not just something light and easily dismissed; she wanted her story to stay with others the way it had stayed with her. But she had never been able to publish it. Today she'd tried once more to convince her editor, a great square of a man with a keen eye for business and absolutely no imagination, to take the manuscript. His dismissive words still rang in her ears.  
  
"Its fanciful rot, Williams! NO ONE wants to read silly fluff about monsters and dwarves. The only people that would ever want this are little girls, and this story is far above their comprehension. I tell you, its unsellable!"  
  
Totally alone, bereft, she found herself in tears on her worn couch. Dark thoughts filled her mind; not for the first time she considered giving up. This time, her despair was such that she walked into the bathroom and drew a razor blade from the drawer. She held it to her wrist, pressing it just hard enough to draw a few drops of blood. The bite of the blade was sharp, pungent, but didn't break her dark reverie. She studied the blood, feeling detached. "Just a little more," she said to herself. The tiny cut had already begun to knit, the drops of blood darkening as they dried.  
  
She pressed the blade deeper into her flesh, watching with dull fascination. Red welled around the silver blade again, enough this time to stain the tips of her fingers. It moved in a slow crimson streak across her skin, finally falling with a surprisingly loud, wet sound on the worn floor. She gazed past her arm to the ugly tiles, the drops standing out, almost glowing against the faded gray.  
  
Suddenly, horror at what she was doing overcame her--she flung the blade across the room, not caring where it landed, and ran into the living room, fingers pressed to the stinging wound on her wrist. She stared at the blood, feeling rather nauseous, before catching a tissue in her hand and wiping it away. Her wrist and fingers were stained, but she was somewhat relieved to see that the cut was small, and had again stopped bleeding. She scanned the room desperately, wondering if she had a bandage somewhere, terrified by her own actions.  
  
Her eyes lit on the picture she'd drawn. Impulse took over; she could not bear the loneliness, the darkness of her mind for another moment. She threw back her head and called for her friends. Immediately, Ludo appeared before her, looking as much like an overgrown teddy bear as ever. He growled in greeting, and Sarah buried herself in his comforting embrace, weeping against his ginger fur. He patted his head with his huge, clumsy paw.  
  
"Sawah sad!"  
  
She smiled through her tears. "Yes, Ludo, I'm sad. Sadder than I've ever been in my life."  
  
"Ludo sad," he said, his huge face falling into a frown. She scratched his shaggy head until he smiled again, and suddenly felt something tug at the hem of her shirt.  
  
"Hoggle!" she cried, catching the little man in her arms and spinning him in a circle.  
  
"Well, then, little lady, why's you cryin'?" His wrinkled face contorted in concern.  
  
"Oh, Hoggle, more than I could ever tell you. I'm so lonely!"  
  
"Well, you needn't be any longer, my lady," a chipper voice intoned. Sarah turned to see Sir Didymis, lounging against his faithful steed Ambrosious.  
  
Sarah patted Didymis affectionately, then turned to Ambrosious. He reminded her so much of her childhood dog Merlin that the tears welled. She sat down and resumed crying.  
  
Anger and mirth were easy for Hoggle to understand, but tears were alien. "Now there...now, little lady." he murmured uneasily.  
  
Ludo sat with a heavy thud, cradling his shaggy head in his hands. "Sawah sad!" he repeated, his huge face forlorn.  
  
"Whosoever hath made thee weep shall feel the bite of my blade!" Didymis leapt to his feet, brandishing his lance fiercely. "I shall fight them all to the death!"  
  
Hoggle kicked the knight. "Y'ain't helpin' the little lady none," he began, but stopped when he saw Sarah laughing through her tears.  
  
She looked at Didymis fondly. "No, Didymis, there's no one to fight." Her face began to crumble again, "That's the problem! There's no one! I have no one left who cares if I live or die!"  
  
"Sawah SA-AD!" Ludo wailed again.  
  
Hoggle patted her shoulder awkwardly. "We care," he said simply.  
  
"But you can't always be here," she replied glumly.  
  
"Then why don't you come with us?" he replied, brightening. This was something that he'd never been able to ask before, though he'd wanted to.  
  
"I...come with you?" she repeated blankly.  
  
"Yes. Come back to the Labyrinth. Stay with us," agreed Didymis, his ears pricked with excitement.  
  
Sarah thought. Why not? There certainly wasn't anything left to keep her here. No family, no husband, no friends to speak of. She didn't even know where her next rent payment was coming from. And if she went back to the Underground, she'd be with people who cared about her.  
  
And maybe.  
  
She shook her head.  
  
Hoggle's withered face fell. "Why not?"  
  
"Oh! No, I mean, yes! I want to go back," she smiled, the tears finally beginning to dry.  
  
Ludo looked from Hoggle to Sarah and back again. Thought. Burst into a huge smile, "Sawah fwiend!"  
  
Sarah closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. She knew what must be done, the words that must be said; she'd imagined saying them for so long. "I wish the goblins would come and take me away. Right now." 


	2. Together: What's Said is Said

Together: What's Said is Said.  
  
Silence.  
  
Dark.  
  
Sarah opened her eyes; she had no idea where she was, only that Ludo, Hoggle and Didymis were gone. Or rather, she was gone, certainly she was no longer in her apartment.  
  
"Why have you called for me?" a commanding, accented voice asked in the darkness.  
  
Sarah's eyes closed again. Jareth's voice, she didn't need to see him to know, she'd dreamed of that voice too often to mistake it. "I." she faltered. Really, what could she tell him? That she'd longed to come back all her life, but she was afraid to? That even Toby had turned his back on her? That she was so devastatingly lonely that it was return to his world or die? "I wanted to come back," she said lamely, sounding shakier than she'd hoped.  
  
Jareth suddenly appeared before her, dressed in flowing black, looking exactly as she remembered him. Her heart leapt. "You think there is a place in my kingdom for you?" he asked bitterly. Sarah could see that his handsome face was contorted with scorn. "You defeated me. Why should I take you in now?"  
  
She drew a breath and reached her hand to him, brushing the tips of her fingers against the silk of his shirt. He flinched slightly, as if her touch pained him, but he did not move away. "I was young and foolish," she said softly, her eyes locked on his, "I did not know what winning meant. If I could go back."  
  
Now he did pull away. "There is no going back. And this is not a fairy tale."  
  
"Fairy tales are for children," Sarah replied, "I am no longer a child." She reached towards him again, amazed by her own boldness.  
  
Suddenly Jareth swept her into his arms, pressing his lips against hers. His kiss was passionate, urgent, and Sarah felt her knees weaken. Oh, it had been so long, so very long since she'd felt a man's touch against her skin. She wound her arms around him, her fingers tangling in his golden hair as she pulled him closer.  
  
As abruptly as he'd kissed her, Jareth broke the contact, pushing her away with surprising fury. "Really, Sarah," he said caustically, "I'm shocked! Such behavior from a decent young woman." His voice lingered on the word decent, making it sound insulting.  
  
She squared her shoulders. "You flatter yourself, thinking I only returned for you," she said, forcing herself to hold his gaze, fearful that he'd see through her.  
  
Jareth sneered, taking her wrist in his gloved hand. He studied the cut she'd made, lightly tracing its shape with his fingertips before looking back into her face. "Do you think I don't know why you've come? Do you doubt for one moment that I've always known?" With a flick of his wrist, a crystal appeared at his fingertips. He held it before her.  
  
To her surprise, Sarah saw her own empty living room in its depths. "You've watched me?" she cried, feeling embarrassed, horrified. "You monster!"  
  
Jareth laughed, tossing the crystal in the air where it vanished like a popped bubble. "Oh, Sarah, what a pity you chose to leave!" He stroked her cheek with a leather-clad finger, his face almost wistful. "You might have spared yourself years of pain. Now what are you?" His face contorted with anger, "a weak, fearful divorcee with bloody fingers. There is nothing you have to offer me."  
  
Tears pricked at the back of Sarah's eyes, but she was too angry to cry. "How dare you say such things? If you hate me so, then send me home!"  
  
He laughed again, cruelly. "Such a home to send you to! What's said is said, Sarah, and if you wish to go home, you must find your way to the castle. You have thirteen hours. And don't think that it will be easier since you've been through it before. The Labyrinth is different every time." He touched her cheek again. "And Sarah...you may find my Labyrinth to be quite a different thing, now that you've left childhood behind." His laughter echoed in her ears as he faded from sight. 


	3. Jareth: The Slowness of Time

Jareth: The Slowness of Time  
  
Normally, twelve years would scarcely register for the Goblin King.  
  
After all, he'd ruled the Underground for a thousand years, and still he was young and vibrant. Twelve years was barely a day.  
  
But the years since he'd met Sarah had dragged unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Lonely day bled into lonelier night, and nothing he'd done seemed to dispel the dark cloud over him. Even hunting and provoking mortals, long his favorite hobby, had grown dull and unsatisfying. For every mortal woman he saw was now imperfect in his eyes. They could never be as beautiful, as winsome, as terrible as his Sarah, who'd forsaken him, left him behind with the dreams of childhood.  
  
In fact, he'd been all but obsessed with her since she'd renounced him. His only real consolation was that she had been so unhappy. It gave him a certain perverse satisfaction to watch her suffer-though when she'd cry it was as if a knife twisted in his heart. Still, he could not look away; all these years he'd silently watched over her like a malevolent guardian angel.  
  
The only time he'd distanced himself was when she'd wed that mortal boy. It wasn't the cruelty and violence, though he'd hated to see her beautiful body marred with bruises. That was agony to watch, but he could stand it. No, it was the sick feeling of jealously he had when that mortal boy touched her that had driven him away. Even now, the thought alone caused a shudder of revulsion. It wasn't fair that another man had taken what Jareth had awakened in her, had intended for himself all along. He clenched his fist. It wasn't fair.  
  
He had wanted to go to her, to make himself known to her, to claim that dizzying, blooming womanhood for his own. Jareth wasn't used to having his lust unfulfilled; he was a man of action, and women had never resisted his charms. He longed to show her the end of what he had begun, to be no longer her enemy but her lover.  
  
But Sarah had said those fatal words, banished him from her life. Truly, since those words left her lips, he'd had no power over her, though she'd held power over him like no other.  
  
And now.  
  
Now he did not know what would happen. Just as no one had defeated him before, no one had ever returned. Was this to be a rematch? Another game of wits, where she strove to overcome him, finally to leave him once more? He didn't want that, and he didn't know that she was strong enough for such an ordeal. Nor did he want to sweep in like the hero of a fairytale, the triumphant king to claim his rebellious queen. No. He thought more, pacing about his throne room aimlessly.  
  
The spark he'd always found so enchanting was still inside her, though its flame no longer lit her beauty from within. It was muted, heaped with ashes. But it still existed. He wondered if her trip through the Labyrinth would ignite it once more...and perhaps make it burn for him rather than against him. 


	4. Sarah: Homecoming?

Sarah: Homecoming?  
  
Sarah walked confidently up to the wall of the Labyrinth. It was as she remembered it, except there was no small, wrinkled man spraying fairies. In fact, there didn't seem to be any fairies at all, and the ivy along the walls seemed a bit...withered. Odd. The doors were still there, open, waiting for her as if they'd known she was coming. She walked through them.  
  
The hallway, too, was much as she remembered it, stretching on infinitely in either direction, the walls still looking rather slimy and dismal. Dry leaves piled in places, and moss grew between the bricks. But strangely, none of the plants seemed to be alive; in fact, as she walked closer, she saw that the moss, which had once had a small eye capping each stem was now shriveled. She touched one of the blackened stems and it crumbled to dust beneath her fingers.  
  
"How odd," she said aloud, walking along the walls. She couldn't orient herself to find the hidden opening she'd gone through before, but she didn't suppose it mattered much. She ran her hands lightly along the slippery bricks as she walked, and it wasn't long before her hand passed through a door. She walked through, wondering which side would be better. Shrugging, she turned to the left.  
  
Through the opening was another dank hallway, but she could see light at the end of it. She smiled dryly. Ironic, a light at the end of the tunnel. But no birds singing, no sound at all save her echoing footsteps and the soft sound of wind. Her brow furrowed...when she was here before, there were all sorts of odd noises. Now.  
  
She stopped at the opening of the tunnel, her mouth open. She'd rather expected the same stone maze she'd seen before, brown-gray walls hung with plants and ivy. But in its place was a cold, barren creation made of wrought branches. Dead wrought branches, she realized quickly, walls covered with twisted dark brown and black vines.  
  
She walked closer, stroking the boughs with her fingers. The bark was rough and gritty like heavy sandpaper, and flakes of it came away at her touch. Sarah gaped-these were the same stone walls she'd seen! It was clear now that the plants that had decorated the stone before had grown wild in her absence. Grown wild and then died in place.  
  
She bit her lip nervously. Most of what she'd seen so far had been dead, and she'd seen no goblins...it wasn't difficult for her mind to fill in all sorts of ghastly possibilities. Where were all the goblins?  
  
She kept walking, turning when she felt she ought to, not really knowing where she was or where she was going. At every turn she found more overgrown plants, all dry and withered. Even the paving stones had come loose, dead sprigs of plants pushing the mortar out of place. She had to watch her step carefully lest she trip over one of the many displaced stones.  
  
Suddenly she reached a clearing, and again she gasped in surprise. On a stone bench sat a creature completely covered by what looked like a thick gray veil, glittering faintly. Sarah stepped closer. Cobwebs, the creature was coated head to toe in heavy gray cobwebs. It was a human shape, with what appeared to be a long, thin stake extending from the top of its head. At once, Sarah recognized what she was looking at. Somewhere, under those ages of cobwebs, sat the goblin wise man. Sarah took a step back. "It must be dead," she said under her breath, fearing to come closer.  
  
Suddenly, a piercing whistle cut through the air. Sarah shrieked in surprise, her heart racing. The wise man's hat was moving, its veil of cobwebs twining around it. "Woo woo! Hola, seniorita!" it said in a trilling voice, swaying from left to right as it spoke.  
  
"Oh! You're alive!" she cried, racing towards the hat.  
  
"Aye, but can you get this crap off of me?" Fine clouds of dust rose as it spoke, and the cobwebs molded to its beak. It coughed. Quickly, Sarah stroked away the cobwebs. The birdlike head arched back as if the hat was stretching. "Aaahhhhh," it sighed delightedly. "Its so good to get some air! Well then!"  
  
Sarah beamed. "I can't tell you how glad I am that you're alive! Oh," she sobered, "but what about the wise man?"  
  
"Eh!" the hat replied, "wise guy you mean!" The hat bent its long neck until its ruddy-feathered head looked directly into the wise man's face. Unceremoniously, it snapped its beak over the bulbous nose.  
  
The old man spluttered and shifted. "Insolent hat," he said, sinking back as if to sleep.  
  
"Wait!" Sarah cried, stepping forward to pull more cobwebs away.  
  
"Well," the wise man said slowly, his eyes focusing for the first time. "You have returned."  
  
"Of course she's returned!" the hat agreed, sounding annoyed.  
  
The old man's eyes rolled upwards. "Be QUIET!" he said gruffly before turning his attention back to Sarah. "Now then, my dear. You have noticed that a great many things have changed. But you will find that even more things have remained the same."  
  
The hat rolled its eyes and squawked, "Ach! You never change, that's for sure!"  
  
Sarah smiled; despite the apparent uselessness of the old man's words, it was reassuring to see the familiar bickering between man and hat. She laughed.  
  
The old man looked at her seriously. "You yourself have changed, and yet stayed the same."  
  
"I have?" she asked blankly.  
  
"Yes. You are not the same girl who defeated us before. But your heart, your dearest wishes remain unchanged."  
  
Sarah frowned. Was her heart the same? She couldn't imagine that was so; it had been broken and trampled so much that it was unrecognizable. She'd grown harder, more bitter and far more cynical. And yet...she shrugged. Didn't matter right now. "Wise man, what should I know so I can solve the Labyrinth?"  
  
The man smiled slightly. "You already know all that you need."  
  
She made a face but held her tongue. No use bothering the old man further; he'd clearly been out of it for some time. And even under the best of circumstances he'd been oblique and hard to follow. As she watched, he sank slowly back into his seat, eyes closing. Sara's face soured--no wonder he'd wound up covered by years of cobwebs.  
  
The hat clucked. "Ach! Why do you even bother?" He shook his head, shaking more feathers loose. "Please leave a contribution in...ach, you know where to put it!" If the beak could have expressed a frown, it would have.  
  
Sarah shook her head and pulled a couple of coins from her pocket, dropping them into the wooden box the old man still held. It too had aged: it looked soft, almost spongy, and the coins neither rattled nor chinked as they landed. "Thank you," she said wryly, walking back into the wrought wood of the maze. Behind her, the hat's muttering mixed with the old man's snores. 


	5. Sarah: Helping the Hands

Sarah: Helping the Hands  
  
Sarah walked purposefully between the dark walls of the maze, turning deliberately as if she knew exactly where she was going. Her eyes were locked on the castle, which seemed to float above the walls; she felt strongly if she focused her energy she'd reach it faster. Why, she couldn't say, it was something rather instinctive.  
  
Something made a grating, clattering noise. She jumped, looking around-- thus far, the only goblins she'd seen were the man and his hat. She wondered where her friends were; clearly they were still alive, but where on earth had they gone?  
  
The clattering was growing louder, but Sarah could not tell if it was coming towards her or she moving towards it. She wrapped her arms around herself but took a deep breath-although it had been frightening, nothing had ever harmed her in the Labyrinth...not last time anyway...She closed her eyes for a moment as she walked, wondering what on earth could make such a strange, grating sound.  
  
Suddenly, it seemed that the ground gave way beneath her. With a shriek, Sarah felt herself tumbling. She stuck out her arms, seeking some kind of hold, and her hands closed over what felt like a bundle of twigs.  
  
Not twigs.  
  
Bones.  
  
Sarah screamed. It was like the oubliette she'd fallen in the last time, but now the hands that had grasped her were skeletal, glowing eerily in the dim light. The clattering sound came again, and suddenly Sarah felt fleshless fingers close around he. She screamed again, kicking wildly, terrified, but the hands refused to let go. Several pairs formed a face and began to speak, the bones clacking together, making that now-familiar sound.  
  
"Which way do you want to go?"  
  
Sarah gaped, her scream dying in her throat. They were still alive! And more amazing, it seemed that the hands that touched her were growing skin again-the gray-blue skin she remembered. She honestly couldn't decide what horrified her more-the bony hands, or the fact that some of them were regenerating.  
  
Another face formed, this one half naked bones, half covered with patches of flesh. "Come on, then. Up or down? You can only pick one."  
  
She fumbled. If she said down, they'd simply drop her, but the thought of the bony fingers touching her enough to pull her to the surface made her skin crawl. But she couldn't risk being trapped in an oubliette with no Hoggle to save her--but then, she knew how the door to the oubliette worked...she just couldn't decide.  
  
"She's not going to pick," said another hand-face.  
  
"She's going to stay here," a fourth chided.  
  
"She'll never decide!"  
  
"She's as good as stuck!"  
  
The voices swarmed in Sarah's head. What on earth was she to do? She drew a deep breath. Really, where else could she go? "Down, put me down!"  
  
The hand-faces laughed maniacally as they released their grasp, sending her plummeting to the darkness below. She gulped, her eyes watching the hands flying past. To her amazement, they were now rapidly regenerating--as she touched the ground she realized that all the hands were back to their blue- skinned selves.  
  
"This keeps getting more bizarre," she whispered, gazing around her new, dark prison. 


	6. Jareth: Deja Vu

Jareth: Déjà vu  
  
The crystal spun in the air before him, hovering, revealing Sarah's face within it. For a moment, he felt a sense of total recall; it could have been exactly twelve years ago, him looking at her anxious face in the dark of an oubliette. Even her clothes were similar--jeans again; she must live in them, and a loose white shirt. Was it the same shirt? No, it couldn't be. He sighed and shook himself. No squalling baby in his arms this time and only a handful of goblins for company. He snickered-her friends were among them.  
  
Glumly, Hoggle paced back and forth, drawing a stick against the floor. "I shoulda never tol' her to come back," he muttered.  
  
Didymis placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Aye, we did what we thought was right, my brother. We canna always see what lies beyond. And methinks that it may well be the right decision after all."  
  
"Quiet, both of you," Jareth snapped, his eyes intent on Sarah's face. Yes, it could have been twelve years ago, but there were differences. Fine lines touched the corners of her eyes; her face was no longer a study in childish wonder. But she was still beautiful, so very beautiful, bringing life and youth in her hands like a gift.  
  
He sighed, watching her face. She wasn't crying now--no, she looked resolute, determined as she furrowed through the dank oubliette, searching for the hidden door. A slow smile crossed his face...perhaps she'd find something else in the dark. He took another crystal from the air and set it afloat, watching it drift out the window of his chamber.  
  
"I's got a bad feeling 'bout that," muttered Hoggle, watching the crystal's flight. 


	7. Sarah: The Mirror

Sarah: The Mirror  
  
Where was that stupid door? She'd looked all over, but so far all she'd found were piles of old rags. Not even a torch, though she didn't know how she'd light one anyway.  
  
"Oh," she muttered, "I wish Hoggle was here."  
  
"I wish Hoggle was here," a voice replied.  
  
Sarah leaped to her feet, badly startled. "Who's there?"  
  
"Who's there?"  
  
"Dammit, who's repeating me?"  
  
"Dammit, who's repeating me?" the voice replied inexorably-it sounded so much like her own that it almost could have been an echo, but the tone was different. Mocking. She dug around, giving brief, one-word comments so that she could home in on it. Finally, her hands touched something cold and smooth.  
  
"Finally!" she said, pulling the mirror out from its ragged sheath.  
  
"Took you long enough," her reflection agreed, its arms crossed as it gazed at her.  
  
Sarah was so surprised that she dropped the mirror, watching anxiously as it bounced across the hard-packed earth. It did not shatter, and she let out a sigh of relief.  
  
The mirror sighed, exactly as she had.  
  
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Just going to echo me again?"  
  
"Just going to echo me again?"  
  
She retrieved the mirror, glowering. The moment her fingers closed on the glass, her reflection spoke again, "Wanna try that again?" Sarah yelped but did not lose her grip this time. The reflection smiled merrily. "Oh, come on, I know you can't be that scared. Not of your own reflection!" It made a teasing face, wagging a finger at her.  
  
"Um, ok. Sorry," Sarah replied lamely. Did she really look like that? The reflection was gaunt, dirt-smudged, her dark hair a wild tangle like a mad woman, a wicked looking bloodstain on her wrist.  
  
"Nope," it replied, "That's what you think you look like. You look different to everyone, you know."  
  
"I.I do?"  
  
"Sure," the mirror said. Rapidly, she saw the reflection change to a perfect image of herself twelve years ago. "To Hoggle you are frozen in time." The image altered again, and she saw her own face gazing out of a high tower, pale hands wringing. "Didymis sees a damsel he might rescue." Again the image changed, the lines of her face becoming a simplistic smile. "Ludo just loves you." The reflection settled back to the gaunt countenance she'd first seen. "You are many Sarahs to many people."  
  
Sarah shook her head slowly. "What does Toby see?"  
  
The mirror went blank. "He doesn't"  
  
Her face fell for a moment. "Karen?"  
  
The image shifted to a picture of her own mother. "A threat," the image said.  
  
Sarah drew a breath. "And...and Jareth?"  
  
The reflection changed several times, barely settling on an image long enough to identify it before sprinting off to the next; she focused on the rapidly changing images, trying to separate them. She was wearing a crown on her head. Then she was a young girl in a silvery ball gown, eyes filled with wonder. Then an image of her naked, welcoming, reclining on a bed, quickly replaced by her own face twelve years ago, lips forming the words, "You have no power over me."  
  
"That doesn't make sense!" she said, gazing blankly at her reflection as it returned to the gaunt original.  
  
"I never said it would! I'm a mirror, I can't help what I reflect!" The reflection looked quite annoyed.  
  
Sarah sighed. "This is pointless. Look, how about you reflect a way out of here?"  
  
"Hey, I can reflect anything; just tell me what you want to see. And," it paused dramatically, "ask nicely."  
  
"Fine, fine. Will you please show me the way to the center of the Labyrinth?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
Sarah gaped. "No! You said you'd show me anything!"  
  
"Anything you want to see. You don't want a way to the center. You don't want to win." And the reflection laughed.  
  
"You!" she spat angrily, throwing the mirror down. She stood over it, looking at her reflection-it was the way she normally looked; hair long, face thin but rounded, a few smudges of dirt on her face and arms, nothing more.  
  
"You" the mirror replied.  
  
"Show me something I do want!"  
  
"Show me something I do want!"  
  
She picked up the mirror, intending to smash it against the walls.  
  
"No! Don't break me!"  
  
Sarah sneered at the reflection. "Oh, you're talking again?"  
  
Her reflection glared, "You act as if I have some control in this situation. I'm just a mirror, what do you expect?"  
  
Sarah sighed. "Fine. Show me what I do want." She stared into the mirror. Her reflection disappeared, replaced by an image that brought the blood racing to her cheeks, her stomach twisting with humiliation and desire.  
  
She smashed the mirror against the stone wall, satisfied by the shards of glass clinking against it. As she watched the fragments fall, her eyes caught sight of a rough plank of wood. She propped it against the wall, opened it and walked through without a backwards glance. 


	8. Counterpoint: Circling

Counterpoint: Circling  
  
The corridor was pitch black. Sarah walked with her arms outstretched, fingers scraping over the dusty walls. It moved oddly, sometimes arcing upwards, other times plunging deeper into the earth, undulating as if it had been cut through the stone by a giant serpent. It seemed she'd walked for miles in the featureless black. She had no way of telling if it had been minutes or hours, only the nagging soreness of her feet marked the time.  
  
Her thoughts worked madly, twisting as much as the tunnel she walked through. She was angry, clear through to the bone. How dare that mirror reflect such an image, claiming it was what she wanted...she couldn't deny that it had been taken to the smallest detail from her fantasies, but she strongly resented that it had been picked from her thoughts. Dammit, she wasn't some kind of...pervert. It was nobody's business what she thought of. Maybe she did want it, but that wasn't all she wanted...  
  
She stopped abruptly in her tracks. What did she want?  
  
Her steps resumed at a slower pace, almost meandering. Such a simple question, but when was the last time she asked herself that? And why couldn't she answer? She wanted happiness. That was easy. But she had no idea how to go about getting it. She bit her lip as she walked. When was the last time she was really happy? It had been quite a while, far longer than it ought to be. But she didn't think of her own happiness much, she'd mostly focused on what had to be done to get by.  
  
"Ok," she said under her breath, trying to focus. What would make her happy? Companionship naturally came to mind. "Great, I'm no better than that mirror showed me," she muttered. But there was more than that, she was certain of it. She paused again, this time sitting on the hard-packed ground, back against the cold, uncomfortable stone, her fingers tracing random patterns she couldn't see in the dirt.  
  
She had been telling the truth when she said fairy tales were for children- despite the life of fancy she'd led, she didn't really want to be the fairytale princess anymore-the very idea was absurd and rather unsatisfying, as if she was sinking back into the lonely unreality of her dreams. No. But reality as she knew it was almost as grim...she sighed heavily, holding her hands before her face, though it was too dark to discern them.  
  
What was there when the dreams were over and the waking world was a nightmare?  
  
**** **** ****  
  
In the palace, Jareth was wondering much the same thing.  
  
His mismatched eyes studied the clock, watching the sword-shaped hands moving steadily onward. Not much time left, and she was far enough from the center that he didn't think she could make it. And now he'd have to decide what to do with her.  
  
Of course, he was not entirely without ideas; the crystal mirror had been quite illuminating. His cheeks warmed and he shifted in his throne as he recalled the vivid image it had pulled from her mind. Yes, he'd be happy to grant her that dream, but that wasn't really a solution.  
  
He sighed and stood, walking to the window to gaze out over his kingdom, unable to withhold a small but triumphant smile; the land was becoming quite green again. His eyes drifted lower, surveying the goblin city that encircled the castle. The houses were still tumbledown, thatch scattered from crooked roofs and falling into the street, bricks and stones in piles. But it too was changing-creatures moved industriously, beginning to clear the streets, cutting back the overgrowth of plants. The Goblins were coming out of their slumber.  
  
He returned to the throne room, drawing a crystal from the air and rolling it absently over his hands as he thought. If she won he supposed he'd have to send her home; that's what he'd told her. And if she lost, as it seemed she would...he sighed again, drawing a gloved hand over his eyes as he dropped into his throne. He was thinking in circles again.  
  
If he was honest with himself, he didn't want to send her back. He liked the thought of her in his Labyrinth, living in a tiny thatch-roofed cottage, or better yet in the castle itself, where he could see her, touch her... And he was lonely. By the gods, he was almost as lonely as she was. But his willful pride stood in the way of what he wanted. Any other woman and he'd take what he wanted, which was to have her near, both servant and companion. He supposed he could still do this-once she lost, he'd have power over her once more, but he doubted her iron will would bend before him.  
  
And, oh gods, he loved her, wanted her to be happy. He was disdainful, suspicious of these soft feelings, instinctively shying away from them as he would from any weakness. Were it not for the love, he could have dealt with her easily...  
  
He stood again, walking across the throne room, gazing at her three companions. The beast and the knight slept, the smaller of the two snoring quite loudly. The dwarf--was it Hedgewort or Hogwart?--was the only one still awake, looking as tense as Jareth felt. The dwarf met his gaze, cringing and fearful but still stubborn. This repugnant creature loved Sarah as well, though with a fatherly vein that was alien to Jareth. Smiling suddenly, he rested his hand on the dwarf's head.  
  
"You have served me well," he said under his breath. Hoggle bowed his head but made no reply.  
  
Jareth turned again to gaze out the window, his gloved hand again over his eyes, as if he bore up to great pain. Behind him, Hoggle watched, openmouthed with surprise. 


	9. Sarah: Riddler's Wood

Sarah: Riddler's Wood  
  
[[[Author's note: This chapter contains a riddle. The answer *is* given away, so if you want to think about it and answer it yourself, STOP READING AT THE RIDDLE. Otherwise, there's a spoiler. You have been warned, so save your flames. I would also like to recognize the wonderful Kit Williams, who wrote The Masquerade, which gave me inspiration, and to Mairzy, who gave me the idea of including a Williams-inspired riddle.]]]  
  
Sarah trudged onward, the soreness of her feet spreading to become a generalized ache that overtook most of her body. God, she was tired, she couldn't remember the last time she'd walked so long. And in total darkness! She almost wondered if she'd gone blind without knowing it; her mind produced dull, blue flashes and streaks like the afterimages of bright lights. She sighed heavily, feeling that she was going to die here, trapped God knew how many miles below the earth. And she wasn't sure if she cared anymore.  
  
Abruptly she walked into something huge and flat and heavy, the impact knocking her to the ground. She cried out in pain and surprise, hands coming to her face where she felt something warm and sticky. It was unmistakably blood; exploration with her slightly gritty fingers revealed that in addition to what felt like a nosebleed, she'd split her lip.  
  
Great.  
  
She groaned--it seemed that the flow was already slowing. Standing, she ran her fingers over the wall she'd collided with. It was heavy, dusty stone as the rest of the walls--why, the tunnel just dead-ended! A sob rose in her throat--hours gone as she'd walked in this endless darkness, and all for nothing? Her hands were increasingly desperate as they moved over the wall, seeking something, anything that might indicate a way out. At first, it seemed the stone was as featureless as the rest of the corridor, but suddenly her fingers found an oddly shaped dent. Rounded, with slender protrusions--Sarah laughed. It was a handprint, clear as if someone had pressed his palm into soft clay. As if she had, her hand fit into the groove as if it had been made for her. She drew a breath and pushed.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Growling, she pushed harder against the stone, but it refused to yield. She began to mutter and curse under her breath, throwing her weight against it, frustrated by the lack of response. Her hand twisted as she pushed, and suddenly the indent rotated with a series of heavy clicks. The wall itself began to move, rusty squeals accompanying the heavy grinding of stone against stone. Light flooded the tunnel--Sarah flung her arms over her face to block it.  
  
Slowly, she let her arms drop, eyes still squinting against the brilliance. The wall had completely given way, revealing a narrow staircase formed by gnarled branches. Sunlight shone through the dust like heavy golden ribbons. Eagerly, she mounted the stairs; hungry for the light, heedless of the bloody handprints she left on the door. The stairs opened on what had once been a tree, its trunk split in two. The halves spiraled apart and upwards, boughs green with oval, glossy leaves.  
  
She looked around in amazement. Sunlight touched endless trees, edging green leaves with gold and making the dark wood sparkle. She walked closer to draw her fingers over the wood--unlike the maze where she'd seen the wise man, this bark was smooth and warm, embedded with flecks of gleaming silver. She smiled, ignoring the pain in her split lip. The sounds! It was quiet, as forests often are, but there was still an abundance of sound- birds called unseen from the branches, soft breezes made the leaves rustle, and somewhere she could hear goblins hiding, whispering to each other. Oh, it was alive, the very air was alive! She impulsively danced a few steps in her delight.  
  
She began walking, picking her way carefully between the trees, energy suddenly restored. She could see a clear path not far away but chose instead a barely perceptible one--narrow and meandering, but far prettier and more enticing. She could still hear faint sounds, laughter and whisper of Goblins. Although it was a bit unnerving, knowing they were watching her, she felt rather reassured--at least they were alive.  
  
"Stop!" a shrill voice said. Sarah looked down and saw a slim, brown goblin clad in a garment of leaves blocking her path. Its hair was deep green and cropped short; at a glance, Sarah couldn't tell if it was male or female. The creature held its long-fingered hand in front of it, the other hand on its narrow hips, feet wide spread.  
  
Obediently she stopped in place. "Hello," she said, half nervous, half excited. After all, she'd met friendly goblins before.  
  
The creature frowned. "Who goes? Who goes?"  
  
She smiled again, "I'm Sarah, and I'm trying to get to the castle."  
  
"Why go to the castle? Why?" The creature was nearly hopping with fury.  
  
Sarah sat on the warm grass and embraced her knees. "That's a long story, little friend. I...I guess I'm on a quest for Jareth.  
  
A deep green brow was raised, "Help you I might. Might. Am Gwynol, am I, guardian of the wood," Gwynol bowed deeply before continuing, "Answer this, and I will help! Gwynol will help Sarah!"  
  
Nodding, Sarah sat up straighter, tilting her head slightly.  
  
"Now, I ask, and now you answer. Past the points of three, I see thee. Never and now begin. Down it starts and finishes abroad, and whispers old secrets again."  
  
Sarah stared stupidly at Gwynol, her eyes wide. What on earth could it mean? She wracked her brain, almost frantic for a moment before she drew a deep breath. "Its ok that I don't know this, I can take my time. After all, I'm not even sure I want to win anymore," she almost whispered. Instead of forcing it, she let her mind wander.  
  
Surprisingly, a light went on her mind--she'd heard riddles like this before! Where? A book...another book she'd read as a young girl, a book full of riddles and rabbits...a journey... She mulled over the question again, and the answer presented itself. She leaped to her feet in excitement. "Wind! The answer is wind!"  
  
Gwynol beamed proudly and raised its hands aloft. A great wind came, so strong that lifted Sarah off her feet, carrying her into the air, but soft and caressing as well, scented with woodsy spices.  
  
"I help you, Sarah! I help you as far as I can! Remember Gwynol, Gwynol who helps!" 


	10. Sarah: Beyond the Goblin City

Sarah: Beyond the Goblin City  
  
It was apparent within moments of her ascension that she was much closer to the castle than she'd thought. As soon as she'd cleared the trees she could see its spires a few miles away, closer still as the winds carried her.  
  
Softly, the wind began to lessen, dropping her gently in front of the door to the Goblin City. It was open, leading into the deserted entryway. The second set of doors was closed loosely, and Sarah could see the indent that once housed the giant robot guard--she couldn't help but smile at the memory of Hoggle taking on the humongous creature. Now she stood almost shyly in the massive doorway, hands caressing the heavy metal, eyes fastened on the sliver of the City she could see--it was nothing like she remembered.  
  
The streets were spotlessly clean, the houses neat and tidy. What goblins she could see were very busy--some were occupied with applying fresh paint to houses, others swept stoops and streets, still others bustled about performing tasks Sarah couldn't name. There appeared to still be a few odd creatures about; chickens, cats, a few unidentifiable mouselike things, but these too seemed more obedient, even cleaner. Amazing.  
  
Slowly, she parted the doors, stepping as inconspicuously as possible into the busy main street. Nobody really paid her any mind--they sized her up in a glance and turned back to their labors. She walked gingerly through the main street, heading towards the castle doors, eyes darting rather nervously about-well she remembered her last trip through the Goblin City, and the battle she'd endured.  
  
Of course, in the years since her trip she'd looked back on the battle with a laugh and a shake of her dark head-it really had been absurd, and the goblin warriors quite stupid. But it had still been very frightening, and she was sure that the blades they had carried were sharp, and certainly the guns were real...and dangerous.  
  
Her heart caught in her throat-yes, there was the heavily armed sentry. There had been two before, but one had been crushed by a rock-the remaining one stood at its post, guns drawn. She studied it a more closely and realized that there was no goblin within to run the guns. That didn't make her comfortable, but it did lessen her anxiety enough that she passed boldly by.  
  
Closer to the castle now-was no one going to stop her? She expected at every step that a host of armored creatures would attack, that a battle cry would sound...anything! But the goblins around her remained impassive. Sarah wasn't sure what she'd expected...she let her eyes move over the castle walls and her mouth fell open.  
  
Jareth sat on a great stone window ledge, spinning a crystal in his hand and watching her progress. His face was so devoid of emotion that he could have been wearing a mask--indeed, if it were not for the constantly rotating crystal slipping from hand to hand, he might have been mistaken for a skillfully painted statue.  
  
She could see the castle gate, the doors as open and expectant as the gates to the Labyrinth had been. She tore her eyes from Jareth's and walked resolutely towards the doors, half expecting them to swing shut and block her entry. Instead she walked easily through them, through the echoing, empty great hall.  
  
**** **** ****  
  
Above her, Jareth dropped the crystal, watching it bounce off the ledge to fall gracefully before it shattered on the stones below. He turned from his window and walked back into the castle.  
  
**** **** ****  
  
The throne room was deserted when Sarah crossed it, much as it had been last time she'd tread through it-then, it had appeared that many creatures had fled in haste. Now it was neat, free of litter and debris. The throne seemed to have been polished; it was almost entirely made of gold, a fact she'd not noticed because of the filth that covered it. Great banners and tapestry hung on the walls, plaques and decorations gleamed. She had the strange feeling that the throne room had been prepared for her arrival, almost as if it was meant to impress her.  
  
It had worked-she felt somewhat abashed by the unexpected splendor. Her dazzled eyes caught on a large window-she walked over to it, impressed by the sweeping view of the City, and the Labyrinth beyond it. Yes, this was most certainly the ledge where Jareth sat moments ago; the stone itself was still warm. But there was no sign of the Goblin King.  
  
Sarah sighed as she gazed at the familiar, twisting staircase that arced up and away from the throne room. She knew where that lead-and she had no choice but to follow. 


	11. Jareth: The Circle Breaks

Jareth: The Circle Breaks  
  
Jareth stood stiffly, hands on his narrow hips, mismatched eyes locked on the door where he knew Sarah would soon enter; it appeared upside down to him as he stood casually on the ceiling. His heart was heavy--there was little doubt she would win now; she'd done it before. And then she'd leave- -and his Labyrinth would sink again into disrepair; he wondered if his world, if his creatures would even survive.  
  
He heard her steps and braced himself, his face becoming an unreadable mask. She might defeat him once more, but he would not give her the satisfaction of seeing his pain. As she entered, her eyes meeting his at once, he twisted his countenance into a mocking sneer and deliberately walked up a staircase that twisted out of her line of sight, only to emerge sideways on the opposite side of the room. She did not seem surprised, but did try to follow--he let his steps echo hers, making it a game of cat and mouse where he was constantly a few steps ahead of her, taunting her with a wicked sneer whenever he caught her eye.  
  
But his heart wasn't in it.  
  
At once, he tired of the game and slid into a small, hidden alcove. He seated himself on the wall and drew a crystal to watch her with; she walked up and down the various stairways, seeking in vain to find his hiding place. He was a bit surprised-though she didn't know it, she was walking over the walls and steps the way he did, with no regard for the usual laws of gravity. His shoulders sagged slightly. He knew he could not stall the inevitable much longer. And then she stood before him.  
  
Embarrassed, caught off guard, he leaped to his feet, adopting a feral grin as he paced around her. Wordlessly, he indicated the clock with a tilt of his golden head-only two minutes remained before the thirteenth hour struck.  
  
She wet her lips nervously. "Through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle, beyond the Goblin City, "she paused. "My will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great."  
  
He wasn't smiling now.  
  
His heart twisted painfully in his chest. Oh gods, it was all happening again; he could hardly stand it. Defeated, humiliated, abandoned...his lips tightened, his eyes a frozen glare, refusing to let her see. *Gods, give me strength to bear up to it once more, leave me some dignity at least...*  
  
Her eyes met his fearlessly. She looked rather worse for wear; dried blood was above her lip, dirt smears on her face and hands, hair ruffled by her journey on the wind. Still beautiful though, and still merciless...he kept his shoulders square, his features immobile.  
  
"I forfeit the Labyrinth."  
  
"You...forfeit...the Labyrinth?" he repeated slowly, his voice dry and emotionless. Inside, hope filled him, alien in its lightness. He strove to ignore it, to keep her safely ignorant of his weakness for her.  
  
"Yes," she agreed, "I forfeit. I do not win, neither do I lose; this game ends and we stand on equal footing," she finished, her face tranquil.  
  
Overhead, the clock struck thirteen times. Neither spoke. 


	12. Together: Let There Be No Boundaries

Together: Let There Be No Boundaries  
  
Long, silent moments passed in hall of stairs where they stood, eyes locked on each other. Neither face betrayed any emotion; Jareth's remained blank and slightly mocking, while Sarah's expressed an almost meditative calm.  
  
After some time, Sarah lifted her hand to him. His loose shirt was open low to display the family emblem he always wore; her fingers rested boldly on the bare skin above it. Again she was still, her touch light against his chest. Jareth's gaze dropped for a moment, amazed by the simple gesture.  
  
His mind was reeling; he was almost frightened by this new ambiguity. Always before there was a winner and a loser, black and white and unquestionable. To now have no winner, to stand at the end as equals, to be neither hero nor villain...this was a world he knew nothing about.  
  
His confusion was forgotten as he felt Sarah's lips press softly to the curve of his neck, nimble fingers slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt to caress his chest. His breath caught in his throat as her warm lips parted and moved, the tip of her tongue skidding over his skin, her free hand sliding around his waist to pull him closer.  
  
This seemed to be his undoing; at once he had her in his arms, urgently pressing his face to hers, parting her lips with his tongue. She moaned softly against him, the sound lost in his mouth as he worked his fingers through her dark hair. Oh gods, how long he'd waited for this moment, how long he'd denied his aching for her.  
  
Did they walk to his chambers, or did he transport them? He was not certain himself. All he knew, his universe was condensed into the length and breadth of her form beneath him. Time slipped away, no longer metered by the sword-shaped hands of his thirteen-hour clock. It didn't matter who won, who lost, whose game they were really playing; the only labyrinth that mattered now was the pattern her fingers traced over his shoulders, her voice in his ears the only song he ever wanted to hear. It was a new world, and he was helpless before it.  
  
**** **** ****  
  
Darkness had fallen.  
  
Sarah slipped from the bed they'd shared, wrapping a sheet around herself as she wandered onto the balcony of his room. The Labyrinth by night was an eerie place of shadows and starlight, but she did not find it threatening; its darkness seemed appropriate. She rested her hands on the cool stone railing, shivering in the night air.  
  
A faint rustling from behind alerted her to his presence; a moment later he had a possessive arm about her shoulder. He deftly shifted the sheet until it was wrapped around them both, his skin warm against hers.  
  
"I thought you were sleeping," she whispered, not looking at him.  
  
"No," he replied, his eyes also on his kingdom, "Just laying still. Thinking."  
  
She nodded silently.  
  
"I don't know what's going to happen, Sarah. This isn't a part of the story."  
  
She turned to him now, drawing the sheet more tightly around them and resting her hand on his chest. "We write the story ourselves now. We aren't ruled by childish fables any longer."  
  
"Then how does it end?" he asked, drawing his hands over the silky skin of her back.  
  
Sarah lowered her head to his shoulder and gazed back out on his Labyrinth, speaking almost to herself, "It doesn't." 


End file.
